Between the Crossfire
by Oriax Ailaht
Summary: AU: Set in the Victorian Era of England, introducing Levy McGarden, a lonely 24 year old woman running a small library. After meeting Gajeel Redfox, Levy realizes that she was falling for a notorious gangster, not the prince she always dreamed of. R&R!
1. Encounters

**How long has it been since I was last here? o.O *counts fingers* about 4-5 months I suppose. :/ Sorry for the delay everyone. I guess being on hiatus was a good thing, 'cuz I was able to focus more on improving my writing skills and my drawing techniques ^^. But anyway, glad to be back. I had this short inspiration due to "Gosick" and "Dantalin no Shoka". **

**As you can see (to my previous readers) I have changed my name from Code Halo to Oriax Ailaht. I hope to be able to write more this week and start some oneshots from other animes (-ahem- KHR, Ghost Hunt, etc.) I need a lot of catching up to do... And yes, this is my first time writing a GaLe fanfic, so please guide me through~  
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**WARNING: Gajeel will probably be kind of OOC as I write on and I won't be adding the correct accents of the English, Scottish, and Irish. I will be keeping it basic simply American English, for I cannot write characters with distinctive country accents. :P**

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He was Gajeel Redfox. A merciless hoodlum from the underground Fairy Tail Guild.

She was Levy McGarden. An innocent bystander that lived on for only her precious books.

Despite living in the same world. their lives couldn't be more different than from light and dark. He was built of muscle and brute strength, possessing a heart of iron that could not be penetrated by meddlesome feelings. She was a fragile fairy with a pettiness that complimented with her warm open heart. He was coarse with his words, spitting out the blunt truth without tact; while she spoke with sincerity and kindness that touched the souls of other people.

It may seem almost 99.99% that these two were complete enemies that were bitter and cold towards each other. But that slim 0.01% might overturn the tables, the attitude turning into an affectionate one. This was a story, between these incompatible people set in the Victorian era of England; where occult and black-magic users ran amok with the psychotic gypsies and the low commoners, all caught up in the crossfire of treacherous guilds.

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It had been raining that afternoon, the rain pouring buckets and buckets of toxic filled water from the coal factories. The commoners and nobility alike scurried below, desperately trying to seek shelter from the hazardous rain. Carriages drove by, splashing the water scum over the dirt pavements at the feet of poor citizens. It was common that it rained in a small district such as this, but despite already had grown up in Ireland for the majority of her adolencence years, plus the additional five years she spent in England; Levy McGarden could not stand the gloomy weather.

"I hate this..."

The young blunette scowled at the ongoing rain, drumming her fingers gently against a large tome that she had finished reading. Although her favorite hobby was to read, read, read all pieces of literature existed on this planet, it would simply wonderful if she could step out into a moment of sunshine. Levy wasn't the type who liked being cooped up in a shabby library and become a senile old lady, especially in the back of the archive room.

It was spring for crying out loud! Shouldn't there be overflowing green pastures shined and sparkling in the dazzling sun while horses galloped over the countryside? Shouldn't she, a mere woman of 24 years old, be enjoying her youth at parties filled with young potential husbands and nibbling at delicate pastries imported from France? In her case, it was impossible.

For one, Levy was the runt in her family. Her mother and younger sister sported beautiful looks that made everyone's heads turn with admiration. Their shiny maroon colored locks were either curled or waved into an extravagant bun and their face and figure rivaling those of Aphrodite. Levy, on the other hand, was the laughing stock.

Her unkempt aqua colored hair stuck out from beneath the colored bandanas she wore to keep the rebellious strands down. Levy, unfortunately, wasn't blessed with the heart shaped faces men like to cup their fingers around, or have the voluptuous body with curves that settled nicely in a large hand. But even with her chubby baby cheeks (or so she claims) and her vertical-like body, Levy was thankful for her charitable personality and for her passion for literature. She wasn't beautiful or eye-candy, but at least she wasn't a dirty vagrant.

Levy signed once more that day, her thoughts drifting away with the rain. If only this cursed rain would let up, she could go shopping! All month long, the young adult had drooled over the new selection of feather pens and parchments and demanded for the price. To her horror, the merchandise had an inflammation price that exceeded the amount of sales she could get from selling her books! So, for the entire month, Levy spent selling her collection of novels and poetry to customers such as Lucy, a rich heiress living near Scotland. After collecting enough money, the blunette had fantasized about the idea of purchasing the new pens that accompanied with the dark colored inkwells and the crisp parchment papers; but to his disappointment, was faced with this catastrophe.

Oh, Levy would do anything just to obtain those fresh supplies from the stationary store! But alas, she couldn't bear getting herself wet in the rain, let alone, ruin her feather pens and sheets of papers on the way back.

"Oh well..."

Shrugging at the turn of events, Levy knew that there was nothing for her to do, except to engage into her novel once more. Flipping a new book to the first page, the 24 year-old quickly became entranced in a plot of dangerous mercenaries and damsels in distresses existing in the years of vassals and lords. It was a series that recently had been published and sent to her library only a few weeks before, and it had received many encouraging reviews from nobles and middle-class commoners alike.

Being a hopeless romantic, Levy found herself marveling at the friendship and love bond between the male and female characters. Although the book was quite a cliche, the characters had interesting personalities that kept her reading. The action was also superb, a movie literally playing through the young adult's mind. Levy squealed happily as she just read the knight promising the princess to be by her side, and would follow his princess' after she died.

"So explicit, yet so deep," The blunette muttered and felt a dreamy smile spread on her face. Indeed, the knight was pledging undying-loyalty to the princess, but he was also proposing the fact that he was in love with her and would be with no one else. " I wish I had a knight or a prince like that..."

From a young age, Levy had dreamed of marrying a splendid man that shared the same passion in reading and writing, as she had. He would have wheat-colored hair that would shine in the English sun and pale skin that brought out his cerulean colored irises. The man of her dreams would have a cheerful personality and would laugh a pleasant chuckle that would make her heart thump rapidly. But unbeknownst to the avid reader, she had just been creating an image of a man that matched _her_ personality exactly. In truth, after leaving her hometown in Ireland, Levy hadn't met any men; except for the two youngsters Jet and Droy, and older men who stopped by to purchase a book.

Levy was indeed a hopeless romantic.

As the blunette excitedly read on, she became so engrossed that she hadn't noticed that the sun had gone down and the district became bathed in the eerie light of streetlamps. She quickly glanced at the grandfather clock near a stack of books, to see that it was currently around 8 in the evening.

"Oh dear..." Levy realized as she snapped her book shut. "Got to close the shop now,"

She hurriedly grabbed her midnight shawl and draped it over her frail shoulders to help warm the exposed skin from the harsh coldness of London. Levy exited the curtained archive room to be greeted by a cozy lit room with tens of bookcases lining the walls and in the center. An oak desk stood in the far back, facing directly in front of the door; while scrolls of papers and parchments practically overflowed onto the floor and onto the chair. On the opposite side of the desk, lay door that led upstairs to her townhouse.

Drawing the key from her pocket, Levy approached the door in a comfortable stride. Lately, she had been hearing rumors of the notorious Fairy Tail guild bogging down into residency in her district. But all she owned was this library rental and the floor upstairs that served as her home. There was nothing to steal from her, unless if you wanted to get your hands on a valuable book. But, who in the world would want to steal some grimy moth bitten book, let alone a gangster doing the thieving.

Just as Levy was about to insert the gold tarnished key in its proper keyhole, a thud was heard from outside. She froze for a mid-second, her mind trying to process what had just happened. Her hands began to tremble as the 24 year old began to back away from the door, gripping her shawl for an ounce of comfort. Another thud was heard, a crashing sound following after.

_Wh-what was t-that?_ Levy worried as she felt a vice-like grip squeeze her erratic beating heart. _It's... It's probably just a cat right?_

Suddenly, a loud pound startled the poor woman, scaring her out of her wits. Her blood became an icy river and her muscles turning into jello. _Are they here for me?_ Levy screamed mentally in her head as another ear-splitting crash rang in her ears, and in response, the young woman screamed. Fear crawled up her skin, making her even more nervous, beads of sweat already forming at her hairline. _Is it a rapist? Or even worse... IS IT JACK THE RIPPER? _Tears threatened to spill from Levy's honey colored eyes.

"O-Oi..." A voice muttered from outside. All movements ceased, the female's voice became caught in her throat. Her lips became chapped in cold as Levy leaned in to listen.

"Is anyone there?..." the deep voice trailed off, sounding gruff and tired. Levy furrowed her eyebrows at the human sounding voice.

Silence followed shortly after the man's question, the atmosphere suddenly heavy. Jack the Ripper or not, Levy could not help but feel pity towards the poor soul that lay between her and the door. She felt all her fear slowly drain away as she drew herself to the full height of a 5 foot and 4 inches. _There was nothing to be afraid of... Probably just a beggar who needed money._

Her throat muscles began to work again as she parted her dried lips. "Y-Yes..." Levy replied quietly, reaching the knob of the door. "W-Who is it?"

And her hand turned the knob, the door opened to a dimly lit street, blackness covering the streets. All she could see in front of her was a pair of blood red irises starting back at her. As Levy's eyes began to adjust, she saw that those crimson eyes belonged to a broad-shouldered man clad in a dark vest and trousers. His black mane was soaked in a substance that Levy couldn't quite pinpoint. He was currently leaning against the door frame, his height and figure overshadowing her small and petite stature, a studded hand gripping his side.

As the heroine dared looked closer, she realized that his hair wasn't wet with the dampness of the night, but was soaked in pure blood.

**ENJOY AND PLEASE R&R! Reviews, criticism, suggestions, and advice would be much appreciated :) **

**-OA**


	2. Bloody Mess

**I present you Chapter 2 of Between the Crossfire. Hope to write a bit more later this week and post chapter 3 around Thursday or Friday. So glad that we have no homework during California State Testing :) **

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Odd wasn't it? It is currently in the dead of evening where everyone has already gone home, and someone shows up at your front door, all bloodied up as if he had just returned from a midnight the sight of blood dripping from his messy locks, Levy screamed out in horror, nearly slamming the door in shock. The door's action was quickly halted by a resisting hand from the stranger, a grunt of dissatisfaction from the man. He winced visibly from the wound that sported beautiful on his side and urged the young lady to open the door.

"Ow... Fuck that stings," the man cursed loudly, his long messy locks shrouding his face. "What kind of greeting was that?"

Levy could only stare back at him in wide suspicion and responded back shakily, "W-what?..."

The man stared back at Levy with the intensity of tiger before averting his eyes to look at his bloodied side. "I said, what kind of shitty greeting was that? Is it some sort of normal routine for you to be slamming doors in other people's faces? Or perhaps you are an introvert?"

The 24 year-old blushed furiously at his inquiry. Certaintly she wasn't an introvert! Even though she is always surrounded by books, at least she can converse normally with the people. And her action with the door was more of a reflex, than a greeting. Did he not know that during these nights, it was especially dangerous to hear strange noises out in the front, as if it was an occult group targeting you or a rapist? _What a rude gentleman..._ Levy wanted to retort back.

Despite his rugged appearance that resembled a notorious hoodlum and his language was atrocious, the man's tone and accent showed that he came from a high class. He seemed about her age... a bit older. Levy couldn't help but gaze at his toned muscles that seemed to bulge from his cream collared shirt, that was covered by a dark vest_._ A ragged cravat slightly tainted in blood hung loosely around his neck, while a light leather overcoat was slung in the crook of his arm._Who is this man?... A nobleman perhaps?_Levy thought.

But back to the matter on hand.

"Well," the female scowled at the now smirking man. "I apologize for screaming at you, and for nearly shutting the door on you. I had confused you with-"

"A fantasy character, right? Some guy named Jack the Ripper?"

Levy stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers, the mistaken man giving her a deep chuckle. " Gi hi hi hi. Don't take it the wrong way, Shorty. I ain't some mystic or do any of that black magic crap. It just so happens that I overheard you scream Jack the Ripper."

Embarrassed with herself, Levy fiddled with the frays of her shawl, her checks burning in humiliation. How could she ever be so stupid as to blurt out her thoughts! _And I thought that I was the quiet one in the family_.

Suddenly, the man began to cough violently, his body convulsing with every hack and pant. Sweat began to break out on his forehead as the man tried to regain strength. Alarmed, Levy threw the door back open and felt her body stiffen at the sight of more blood splattered against the cobbled street.

"You are hurt!" she exclaimed.

"No shit, Sherlock." The man vulgarly spat. "How long did it take you to realize that I was fucking bleeding out here?"

"Shortly after you insulted me for being an introvert,"

Even though Levy was small, she had a pretty big heart for a brute like this one. Especially since he was hurt. The female quickly took his arm that was leaning against the door frame and draped it over her shoulders. She gasped at the sudden weight change and nearly stumbled into a pile of books.

"Watch out, Shorty." the said man snickered, obviously enjoying the frustration of the 24 year old.

Levy ignored the man's remark and managed to haul him safely through the main foyer of the library, to the entrance of her upstairs town house. Unlatching the wooden door, the duo came across a flight of stairs that eventually led them up into a cozy living room that could accommodate for about 2-3 persons. A kitchenette stood on the opposite side, clad with basic kitchen necessities and accompanied by snug breakfast nook.

The man blinked wearily at the town house's simplicity for a seemingly sophisticated woman such as her. As he was continued to be dragged by the lady, the man noticed a square object covered with a white sheet that was tucked away in an open coat closet. He frowned his studded eyebrows in suspicion but the thought was quickly whisked away as his keen nose detected a smell that he had never encountered.

The smell was between a mixture of old pages basking in the warmth of sun and recently used ink. But there was also an underlying smell that the man couldn't quite put his finger on. It smelled like... Lavander. Yes, the scent of lavander had caught this man's attention, for all the women he came across in his life wore heavy cheap purfume that seemed to suffocate you as they drew closer. In this day and age, lavendar was rare and the stranger relished at the scent of it.

And it had all radiated from the midget 24 year old who was currently wobbling in her hallway, obviously struggling with the heavy feat.

Our oblivious heroine was too busy concentrating on her important task and didn't realize that she was given a hot gaze from a certain crimson-eyed man. As the duo continued to amble down the surprisingly long hallway, they came across a bedroom with a bed, a small wardrobe, a basin, and at least three large bookcases that took about half the size of the room. Even while being dizzy and nauseous, the man's sense were still working perfectly fine, especially his nose.

And yet again, did he breathe in the smell of books and flowers.

With a wheeze and a pull, Levy pulled the man on last stretch and plopped him down onto a simple brass bed with a mattress that was not too stiff and a comforter. He sighed blissfully at the feel of his aching back against a soft surface and felt himself sink into the bed. But, that was interrupted by another dull throb from his wound that continued to bleed.

At the sound of her mysterious guest's groan, Levy hurriedly kicked off his iron clad boots and untied the man's cravat, trying hard not to let her eyes stray to his prominent adam's apple. _Focus here... Don't start fantasizing anything strange now._Levy reminded herself as her hands worked the vest free.

In a matter of minutes, the female ripped open his collard shirt, only to be greeted by an adonis sculpted torso that was unusual tanned for someone from this country. Levy marveled at the abs the man sported, rock hard muscle that flexed out as he let out every shuddering breath. Shaking her head to clear the nasty thoughts, Levy gently tugged away the last remnants of his shirt to earn a painful moan.

She quickly placed a cool hand at his forehead and nearly jolted in shock. "You have a high fever!" she nearly screamed.

Before her guest could retort back with an untactful comment, Levy switched on the silver faucets and left the chilling water fill the basin. She almost ran into a full sprint out of her room and fetched several washcloths, a roll of bandages, her sewing kit, and a bottle of alcohol. There was no time for this man to be treated at the hospital, so she would have to make do.

Levy rushed back into the room with her required materials. First, she set down the filled-to-the-brim basin and soaked in a cloth the color of a delicate gray. After placing the dripping cloth on her patient's forehead, Levy busied herself by cleaning the wound. The wound seemed quite recent, for the majority of the external blood had been absorbed by another cloth.

But now, here came the fun part; the patching up process. It wasn't the size of the wound that bothered with blunette, but it was the deepness that made her cringe in disgust. Meanwhile, the man beside her was completely awake and bit back a snarl of anguish as Levy jabbed a finger at the throbbing area.

"Don't do that, Shorty." he scowled. "It fucking hurts, you know."

She glared up at him with defiance and lifted a finger. "Call me a Shorty one more time and I will poke you again."

The man grunted and lapsed into silence as he heard the sound of rustling thread and something dipping into a liquid-like substance. The female nervously twisted another cloth and came into the black haired man's view. "Here," she said opening his mouth and stuffing his mouth with the cloth.

He nearly spat out the rolled up object and wanted to retaliate, if he had not seen the glimmer of a pointy needle. The young blunette turned to him, the ends of her bandana swishing, and sighed. "This is going to hurt... But please bear with me."

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After a grueling hour and half, Levy slumped with exhaustion as she finished wrapping the man's torso. She could hardly contain her shock about her splendid mending work. She was no medic or surgeon, but she managed to sew him back up! An utter stranger to top that! On the other hand, the man had let a sigh of relief that he was not bleeding to death and nor was the wound affected.

"Hmph. Good job Shorty," he muttered before receiving another painfully but light jab from a certain finger. He tensed up in reaction while the female giggled.

Levy began gathering up her doctoring tools, carrying the tainted water basin between her hip and the alcohol in her other hand. A sloshing of water could be heard from outback, and she returned with the now clean bowl. Maybe she should become a nurse on the battlefield instead of a nerdy bookworm. But, it was already impossible to apply for a medical education at this age, so Levy waved away the thought.

While preparing to discard the needle and the leftover bandages, Levy was stopped by a low murmur of "What's your name?"

She blinked a few times and pointed at herself. "Me?"

"Who else? You don't want me to keep calling you Shorty right?"

That earned a glare coming his way. "My name is Levy, Levy McGarden."

"Interesting... Gajeel." the man scoffed, acting uninterested and callous. "Thanks..." he whispered every so quietly forcing Levy to strain her ears.

The said female shrugged and grinned. "You are welcome."

And so began their sunny days together.

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**R&R please~ Will grant cookies for those who review ;) **** Reviews, criticism, suggestions, and advice would be much appreciated. **

******-OA**


	3. A Fucking Fantastic Morning 1

**Back again with Chapter 3 of Between the Crossfire. I actually anticipated to be it released around Thursday, or Friday at the latest, but my thoughts flowed too quickly and I ended up typing more than I intended to do on the first day. *shrugs* Oh well, hope you enjoy this installment as well. Church... a very fond childhood memory XD.**

**BTW: I have recently applied as a Beta Reader, so if anyone requests my services, let me know! **

**Thank you for all the helpful reviews that I have received so far! It makes me feel very motivated that I get these great comments and advice/criticism from all the helpful writers out there :) Please continue to review! I am sorry if I can't write to all of you personally to thank you all for reviewing.**

_Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN FAIRY TAIL AND ITS CHARACTERS. I just own the plot and this story... No plagiarizing. _

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The neighborhood was quiet on most Sunday mornings, no business were open or operating during this special day. Today was a regular Mass day for Catholics and Christans alike. Although the majority of England was forced to submit to the Church of England, there were still several that continued to practice Catholicism.

And one of those people is our lovely heroine, Levy McGarden. Being a devoted Catholic, Levy didn't believe in the superstition of four-leaf-clovers and leprechauns that revolved around her community during her childhood days. She believed in only God and merely wished for a humble life that wasn't dangerous in anyway and be too worrisome. But unfortunately, He had other plans for her.

Our other hero, Gajeel, blinked his crimson colored irises at the powerful striking rays of sunlight that seeped from the curtains. He let loose a low growl and cracked his neck several times. One things he hated in the mornings was anything that was the sound of animals and people bustling at the early hours and waking up early. Suddenly, he realized that he was in an unfamiliar room. In an unfamiliar bed.

And an unfamiliar exotic smell of a certain woman.

In a panic, Gajeel threw off the covers of the bed and attempted to climb off. But a piercing pain in his side halted him in his tracks, and made him double over; eventually tumbling off the bed and smack his face on the wooden floor. It was silent for a few minutes before he bellowed loudly.

"FUCK!"

After hearing some birds flap away in fright, Gajeel sat himself on the bed, his legs criss-crossed and his face leaning on his elbow. With an aching side and a throbbing forehead, the man scowled. Gajeel's sharp eyes began to survey around the room, trying to assessing his complicated situation. What the hell was he? The male's head felt fuzzy and hazy as he tried to recall the previous night's events. Gajeel remembered getting into a fight with a hooligan and... that was about it.

Was he a captured prisoner? Hell, then that meant he was fucked. But from the looks of it, all his valuables were here, including: last night's attire, his favorite metal gauntlets, and his silver pocket watch that he personally designed. Nothing was stolen yet... So he wasn't technically a hostage nor was he robbed from.

He didn't enter a brothel or a prostitute's home… Right? Affirmative. The area where he was currenrtly settled was clean and tidy, no blood or body juices on the sheets. Plus, his clothes were folded neatly and his coat was hung behind a chair, not strewen around. No extra lingerie or woman's articles of clothing anywhere on the wooden floor. Gajeel sighed in relief, not wanting to deal with an annoying woman who he had just had sex with.

Thrid point was that he was bandaged up and cared for. Gajeel raised a skeptical pierced eyebrow at his abdomen that had been wrapped tightly with bandages that were tinted a maroon color. A bowl of cold soup lay on a small bedside table, along with a lukewarm biscuit and a new roll of bandages.

Despite the fact that he had doubts about the strange concoction, Gajeel's stomach said otherwise, growling loudly in protest. Bring the soup bowl close to him, Gajeel relished at the fragrant smell of tomatoes and chicken broth and dug in heartily, tearing off the bread and dipping it in the soup. But, he would never admit it to anyone that he enjoyed little pleasures such as this.

"Well this is definitely some messed up shit..." the black haired male sneered after finishing his soup, "Wonder where the hell I am."

In a few seconds, he could hear the thudding of footsteps clambering from below and the sound of he door unlatching. The presence didn't sound threatening, until the bedroom door banged open, to reveal a short blunette clad in a modest Sunday dress with a large parcel in her hand. She panted slightly, taking a quick glance at Gajeel and sighed.

"Oh thank goodness..." she muttered, her knees nearly giving way underneath her, "Nothing bad happened."

Gajeel frowned at the intruder and growled, his hands inching towards his gauntlets. "Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Levy glared up at her temporary boarder and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, for your information, this is MY house and you are apparently in MY room and on MY bed. You have no right whatsoever to ask me why I am doing here."

Now all the thoughts came rushing back to him as Gajeel mentally slapped himself for being so stupid. Of course, the night before, he had come onto this midget bookworm's doorstep while bleeding like there was no tomorrow. But he didn't dare say that in front of the female's face, for he didn't want to get another deadly poke in the ribcage. Gajeel ignored her senseless ranting and focused on slipping on his gauntlets over his forearm. Flexing his fingers, he felt instantly comfortable in the steel coating.

"Anyway," the 24 year old continued, "Was that you earlier who made such a commotion that I had to run from the town plaza back home?"

"What commotion?" Gajeel questioned gruffly, trying to get himself out from the bed.

"The loud curse that apparently woke up everyone in the neighborhood?"

Gajeel thought quietly for a few seconds until his red eyes lit up. "Oh that. I just hit something and yelled fuck."

Levy sighed, placing her hand over her face in exasperation. "Gajeel... This is a community of disciplined and well-educated people, not some gang in the slums."

"Well how am I supposed to know that?" Gajeel retorted, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Hmph. It's their fault for being a bunch of fucking pansies that get scared shitless over everything."

And that was the end of their conversation. Levy was feeling all sour and apprehensive at Gajeel's behavior and conduct, while the latter idly fingered his bandages and throwing mock punches to check he was in shape for his recovery. There was no way to control this... child, as Levy referred to him. Gajeel was like a child, spoiled and always talking back, no matter how unconvincing he was.

"Well now," Levy reprimanded, straitening her posture, "while you were asleep, I took this chance to buy you some new clothes from the bazaar... seeing that your clothes over there are stills stained."

Gajeel then took this time to actually look back at his clothes and realize that they haven't been washed cleaned from the caked blood and that they looked pretty worn.

"... and that you are..." Levy blushed and threw him the thin parcel, "shirtless."

This time, the black haired man gave a double take and looked down at himself, half of his chest covered in thick white bandages and his trousers nearly hanging off his defined hips. Gajeel smirked deviously and leaned to the smaller woman.

"Like what you see here, Shorty?" he asked lecherously, not noticing his slip with the word 'shorty'. Unfortunately for him, the term did not go unnoticed and received a painful pat on his wounded side. He stiffened at the touch as Levy grinned.

"Remember, you are just a mere guest and you must respect the host's house rules." Levy reminded him and sauntered out the door, pleased with her comeback. "And please hurry and change. We don't have all day,"

A slam of the door followed shortly afterwards as Gajeel cocked a confused brow. "We?" he questioned and scratched his shaggy locks. "I hate owing fucking favors," he muttered, ripping the parcel out.

From out of the Magnolia Rental Library, stepped a short blunette dressed in a light summer dress accented with tinges of orange and yellow around the billowing skirt. Her hair was tied up in a simply ponytail with a bandanna that was the equal shade of her dress. As she strolled down the street casually, men stopped in their tracks to ogle at the cute figure.

Beside her strode a man much too large of her size, twice her size to be exact. Compared to the tall male, Levy only came close to the base of his throat. The man was clad in a simple open peasant's vest with a clean work blouse underneath and dark trousers on his legs. His glossy black hair hung behind him, streaming out slightly with pride and arrogance with every step he took.

"Where the hell are we going?" Gajeel snapped after awhile, "Why is everyone else going to same way as we are, bookworm?"

And in truth, many people were heading down the same direction Gajeel and Levy, all dressed nicely as if they were going to a party. It made him sick in the stomach to see nobles and middle-class people strut around in all their greedy glory. Actually, it made him want to give them one punch in the jaw and that would make them think twice before bragging their mouths off.

"Shush, no cursing now," Levy said, placing her finger over his lips. "You are to accompany me to some place very special. And after that, we are going to visit a doctor to check up on your wounds."

"Special? And where that might be?" the 25 year old asked sarcastically, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"Here."

The man looked up, half expecting them to come to another bookstore or whatever crap. Gajeel nearly blanched at building that stood in front of them, cursing his life over and over for being a fool and staying over at the bookworm's home. "Bullshit..." he grunted.

The pair were currently standing outside a small town church, the pristine white walls shone in the morning light in a holy glow and the brass cross standing straight and tall above the spire of the church. He should have known... All these people were going to fucking Mass! From a few blocks away, he could see a black visible line of people file down into the church doors, doing the sign of the cross as they entered.

"Hell with it." Gajeel said, stopping abruptly in his tracks, "I'm not going in that f-"

But he was cut off as Levy grabbed his elbow and towed him along until they reached the front of the church. She smiled happily, did the sign of the cross, and proceeded into the small corridor that eventually led to the main room. Gajeel, on the other hand, tried to resist the woman's grasp, but before he could do anything, he was forced down into a pew onto his knees.

"Oh my fucking god."

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**Thanks for reading, and please review if you story alert/mark this story in your favorites! Every little bit helps ;) Let me know what you think.**

**-OA**


	4. A Fucking Fantastic Morning 2

**Ahaha... Hello. Back with the 4th installment of Between the Crossfire. Sorry for the lateness :/ Tests and writer's block were killing me and I finally had some time to write. I don't particularly like this installment, but I hope it appeals to the rest of you. Rushed unfortunately... **

**News:**_ I have recently applied for Beta Reading and am opening one-shot requests. If you would like a one-shot request, please refer to my profile for the form for filling out a request. If you would like me to Beta Read any of our stories, visit my Beta Reader profile. _

**Thanks for all who have favorite this story and/or are tracking it. But reviews are essential if I want some feedback, so leave some reviews behind after you are done! Thanks again everyone, and please enjoy chapter 4 of Between the Crossfire! **

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In his point of view, church basically was a place for hopeless people like bookworm here, who had nothing else to lose. Little weaklings who were powerless against the world, turn to an icon of worship, in hope that his saint or whatever would save them from the pits of Hell. But Gajeel knew, there was no such thing as God, Hell, or Heaven. All that awaited humans was death, as the cycle of life continued on.

So what was the reason again why these pitiful humans, without a resolve to live, set up stupid religions that had no pure logic in them? Oh yeah, so that they could rip off others just to make a profit for themselves.

Gajeel scoffed at the crowd as Catholics walked in, straightening their pristine white collars and brushing off invisible dust off their petticoats. Even midget bookworm was being all prissy-preppy, trying to make her wild hair look presentable and her hands clutching a silver rosary. Prayer books were quietly shuffled about, as the people took the chance to gossip at Levy's new guest. From inside the church, Levy could hear snippets of conversations, the words "brusque", "dangerous" and "scoundrel" floating around. The blunette looked down nervously at her companion who was currently staring out the stained glass window in complete utter boredom, oblivious of the gossips.

Levy sighed in exasperation and proceeded to massage the bridge of her nose. She had never had guests this complicated as Gajeel, who always got his way as a spoiled brat. First, he came at her door in the dead of night, stained in blood. Second, he caused a disturbance earlier that morning, cursing as if it was ordinary vocaulary for someone of his status. And now, people were spreading rumors about him. _Be brave Levy-chan, _she reminded herself as Levy stood up and shuffled around the pews.

She glanced at someone's open pocket watch and saw it was nearly the beginning of the session. _Only a few more hours with this insuffereable man and I am finally liberated._

But although she always complained about Gajeel, Levy has learned to accept his company. Although he was very boisterous and coarse with his language, the dominating male was gracious enough to accompany Levy to church and to run some errands. Levy began to feel her cheeks heat up and her heart quicken as grasped something in her small hands.

Meanwhile, back at the duo's pew, Gajeel had his arms still crossed and a scowl on his studded face. He stared up at Jesus Christ with a pitiful expression of sadness od grief as he suffered from the crown of thorns and the nails on his feet and hands. Gajeel cocked an eyebrow at the religious icon and scoffed, thinking how foolish these civilians were to kneel down to this strange looking god.

Suddenly, the church doors flew open, to reveal a group of people dressed in stark white robes and brightly dyed red candles. They descended down the aisles, emitting an aura of holiness and pure devotion towards God. As they passed by Gajeel's aisle, the black haired male spotted a young altar boy nervously holding a heavy wooden cross over this head. Nailed on the cross was a metal figure of Christ, his expression sad and hurt.

Gajeel narrowed his eyes at the passing Jesus, feeling as if the deity was looking down at him with pity. As the head priest and his aides ascended the stone steps to the altar, a squeak was detected by Gajeel's keen ears. Turning around, he was faced with a sighing blunette, her hairband lost in its host's bird nest-like hair, and loose strands untucked.

"H...Here,"

Something was suddenly shoved into Gajeel's hands, the smell of paper and old leather wafting into his nose. To his horror, Gajeel stared at the sight of a prayer book that was thrust into his hands by the bookworm. He was about to roar in protest, when he felt a slim finger placed on his lips.

"Please Gajeel, work with me," Levy pleaded in a hushed tone. She turned to a page in the book and proceeded to stand with the rest of the crowd.

With a solemn expression, the head priest motioned the choir to start, and soon, the church was filled with a joyous air of music. The organ echoed away as the people sung to the notes, their voices blending as one. Levy sung happily, her expression relaxed and blissful, the prayer book open in her palms. Gajeel felt something inside him stir as he gazed into Levy's face.

_Hmph, probably a digestive problem, _Gajeel thought as he looked down at his stomach. True, he didn't have a total satisfying breakfast, but he will have to make do. _'Cuz I'm in fucking church._

The session droned on for about an hour, the priest speaking in a monotonous voice that echoed within the church. Gajeel made no notion to participate in the pathetic religious activites done regularly during a session. Instead, the male found it something more intruiging.

People watching.

There was a difference between stalking and people watching. Stalking was an immoral act done due to perversion, wanting to know every single detail about a certain target, an unhealthy obsession. Perverts normally went after very young chilren or adolecents. On the other hand, people watching was merely an observation of anyone in general, whether it was a child, an adult, or an aging person. People watching developed from a never-ending boredom when you are surrounded by people.

Glancing around, Gajeel spotted: a grown man picking his nose and flicking the goo on his finger out into the side aisles, an old woman making weird incantations in the back of the room that had nothing to do with church, two small children sporting strange attires and hairstyles, and a familiar wave of blond hair.

_Blond hair?_

With a start, Gajeel stiffened his posture to get a better view of the crowd of people that sat in the front. And there it is was, a female clad in a pale rose dress and had long blond hair that flowed above her shoudler blades. Unconciously, Gajeel gripped the pew seat with a ferocity that almost made the wood snap as he stared at the lady.

Noticing the change, Levy looked on in the direction her guest was looking at and felt her shoulders sag. Of course Gajeel would be enchanted to a woman of her caliber. Even without looking at the woman's face, Levy knew that it was Ms. Lucille Heartphilla, the heiress from Scottland who was a frequent customer at Levy's bookshop. Lucille commonly went by "Lucy" to avoid detection of sneaking out of Scottland to enjoy the mysterious wonders of London and other small woodland villages that contrasted greatly with the dreary Scottish landscape. Lucy was big-breasted, tall, and a beautiful noblewoman. Since she was still unmarried, many had asked her hand in marriage.

In contrast to her, Levy was a tiny midget, who was only interested in books and running the shabby library. There was nothing spectacular about Levy, except that she was always had an optimistic attitude that shone brightly. The blunette sighed inaudibly and continued to listen to the priest's preachings. _I should stop comparing myself to others_, Levy thought.

The sermon soon came to a close about a grueling hour later, the people scattering out the church to return muttered in relief and sauntered out the doors, his hands shoved in his pockets. He passed by Levy, who was assisting the head priest place the prayer books correctly onto the booksheleves. She chatted animately to the priest, her eyes shining in excitement and glee.

"Gajeel!" she cried, waving her hand happily when Levy spotted her companion. "Come over here for a second."

As soon as Gajeel came within distance, Levy grabbed his forearm and directed him to the head priest. "Father Dominic, this is Gajeel, the man that I have been caring for as of lately. Gajeel, this is Father Dominic."

The Father bowed deeply, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe. At a closer look, the old man had a clean chin and wispy hair of grey, and had blue eyes that twinkled with amusement. He tightened the cord around his waist and with a flourish of his long sleeve, he presented a small wooden cross. "Welcome Gajeel, to the home of God," Father Dominic smiled, "If I may pry, is this your first time going to Church?"

Gajeel frowned at the question, unsure how to answer it. He was torn between lying to avoid engaging into some crappy religious converstaion and telling the truth. "Erm... Ya?" Gajeel tested.

"Ya?" the priest questioned skeptically. Gajeel's apparent intelligent vocabulary had slightly confused the old man, who was not accustomed to such coarse speech.

"H-He means yes!" Levy intervene, saving Gajeel from the spotlight. "It is his first time at Church. At home, he was constantly beaten by his parents and never got a chance to interact with our great God."

"Is that so?" the priest asked, his voice sounding enthusiastic. Gajeel mentally deadpanned himself as Levy made a face of apology. "Are you thinking about joining out wonderful community? We have several services for baptism, recieving the Euchrist, and for Confession. As a small community we have..." Father Domonic trailed on, listing the possible benefits for attending the Church.

Honestly, Gajeel could care less and nodded absently to the priest who blabbed about God. Levy merely became engrossed in Father Dominic's preaching and agreed with all his religious logic. Suddenly, a blur came out from behind the priest, and tackled into Levy. She gasped at the contact but relaxed to see a sandy haired child cling onto her shin.

"Miss Levy!" he cried. He looked no older than 10 years old, wearing a simple smock, trousers, boots, and a funny floppy top hat that was dusted with brown and white.

Levy felt a smile grace her face as she gathered up the young boy in her arms. "Good morning Jet," she chuckled. "How are you this fine morning?"

"Great!" he giggled, splitting into a buck tooth smile. He gave Levy a large sloppy kiss on her cheek, something that the young blunette appreciated. From behind Jet, came another young boy who huffed heavily, his round face flushed.

"Geez, Jet. Couldn't you have waited for me?" the boy asked, his hair curled into a spring on his head.

"Sorry, Droy. Couldn't help it,"

"Hello Droy," Levy said as she crouched down to Droy's height and wraped her arms around him. Droy returned the hug and kissed Levy as well. He was also dressed similarly to Jet, except he didn't have a hat, revealing his hair curled spring.

"Hi, Miss Levy," he greetted shyly.

Something caught Droy's attention. A large evil looking man to be exact. Pointing a chubby finger at Gajeel, who was currently trying to detatch himself from the priest's constant prattling, Droy asked "Who is that?"

Immediately, Jet's cherry expression turned into a scowl. He stomped up to Gajeel and tucked harshly at the male's tunic. Gajeel frowned as Jet tried to straighten his posture to match the overtowering figure. Taking a large breath and staring right into Gajeel's eyes he asked, "Are you Miss Levy's fiancé?"

"Jet!" Levy gasped, her cheeks turning beet-red in embarrassment. But... what was this erratic beating in her heart?

"What?" Jet asked innocently, crossing his arms behind his head. "I was just a'wondering." Meanwhile, Droy eyes gew wide as he continued to grasp Levy's arm. Jet was currently in a staring contest with Gajeel.

"Let me get some things straight for you, shorty." The latter growled mockingly, snatching up Jet's tall hat.

"H-Hey!" Jet protested.

"Number 1, try picking on someone else your size." Gajeel said, as he began twirling the hat on his finger, out of Jet's reach. "I am too tall for your good, so don't try and fight someone like me."

"Give back my hat!"

"Number 2," Gajeel continued, ignoring Jet, "When you speak to your elders, ask them politely. Didn't your mommy and daddy teach you manners?"

"Give it!" But Gajeel just held it higher, taunting the child.

"Aanndd number 3," he drawled for dramatic measures. "I am not, that bookworm's, fiance. Who would court some as short and ugly as her?"

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**Please R&R! Reviews/comments/feedback/criticism/advise/suggestions are appreciated~! If there are an errors or whatnot, please PM me ASAP. (I rushed...) **

**-OA **


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